


Out of the Rain

by bgoodg



Series: People are Strange [1]
Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgoodg/pseuds/bgoodg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eduardo leads a quiet life as a hotel manager. He also bears a striking resemblance to Anthony Perkins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a work of fiction based off of movie personas. These events are fake and not intended to defame any real people.

The hotel is his life. It's a quiet life, not too many customers since they opened the highway and took most of their traffic, but Eduardo gets enough business to keep the place running. He wakes in the morning and goes through their current occupancies. Everything is in the ledger: guests, their licenses plates, payment type along with expenses related to running the day to day operations of a small hotel. You'd be surprised, he always tells people when they mention how boring his job must be.

There's always something exciting going on.

***

Harvard comes in on a Thursday. Eduardo notes the sticker on the back window, and the faded red sweatshirt with the university's name etched on front, as the driver lumbers into the hotel. Eduardo suspect the man is lost. The sky is just starting to darken, far too early for most of the hotel's last chance occupants. But when the driver steps in, eyes red, mouth in a yawn and hands shaking from exhaustion, Eduardo smiles and asks if he prefers smoking or non.

"Non," Harvard says, "Do you have internet?"

"We're a hotel, not 1998," Eduardo says. "There's ethernet in the rooms but wifi in the lobby." The lobby is actually a room next to the check-in desk that holds two chairs and a small table where Eduardo sets up the complimentary breakfast every morning.

"Ethernet," Harvard says, like Eduardo made his point for him. "Cash okay?"

It's suppose to be card only but the guy's asleep on his feet and Eduardo doesn't want him out on the road. "That'll be sixty for the night." Eduardo pushes over the sign-in sheet, having already written down the car model and licenses plate.

 _M. Zuckerberg_ his guests writes, taking the key from Eduardo before disappearing for the night.

***

Eduardo doesn't leave the the front desk until he's exhausted. Focusing on the hotel helps keeps the worst of things under control.

Eduardo turns the key, pushing his way into the small house overlooking the hotel. The place is still more suited to his old aunt's style than his own. It was her will that had bequeathed the land, the house and the hotel to Eduardo. His parents had assumed he'd sell it and use the money towards his college. But Eduardo knew what college would do to him: too many people, too many chances, too easy to get caught.

People in town always asks why they don't see him more. They assume he must be lonely but in the digital world, Eduardo doesn't know how anyone could feel unconnected. His laptop is where Eduardo left it, the same tabs and forum pages open. There are others like him; a thought that Eduardo finds comforting and terrifying. There are some who aren't as careful as Eduardo. Those are the ones who get their names plastered across newspapers and breaking news tickers. Eduardo tends to shy away from those people. Most of them want the glory and notoriety of getting caught. Eduardo can't think of anything worse.

 **Zbot:** In for the night?

No names, no location, no professions: all rules instituted by the forum to keep liability to a minimum. Unsurprisingly there's a large number of lawyers amongst their breed.

 **BambiEyes:** yup, just finished up work.

Eduardo smiles and adds, "how was your day?"

***

Zbot once promised Eduardo that if necessary, he'd wipe Eduardo's computer and internet history. Eduardo figures that's the mark of a true friend.

***

The police come by as Eduardo's lining up cereal boxes. There's a family with two small kids still in pajamas taking up the main table. The businessman from A3 had come in earlier, asking for coffee before checking out. Harvard is nowhere to be found.

Eduardo smiles at the police as they come in. He recognizes the Sheriff from events in town and the young deputy who just transferred from Chicago.

"How can I help you gentlemen?"

***

Eduardo knocks as the first storm clouds cross the horizon.

"Thought checkout wasn't until 11," Harvard says. He keeps the security bolt on, looking at Eduardo from a slit of doorframe.

"It's not. I thought you'd want to know though, the cops came by earlier. Seems a black car, Harvard sticker on the back has been reported missing."

Harvard doesn't do anything. The door stays wedged open and his face impassive.

"I figure they didn't see anything too suspicious since they left after speaking to me, didn't even have time to check around back here."

Harvard's eyes are narrow but his lips quirk to the side. "Is it sixty for another night?"

***

Rule seven of the forum is no meetings. There'd been a conference in the 80's, an honest to goodness gathering of their kind at a motel not unlike Eduardo's. Something had happened though, something that everyone refused to speak about and cast a shadow over any real life gatherings.

He's thought about it before. Not an actual conference with people jostling for attention but just meeting up with another. Just to know he wasn't the only one.

***

"Did you come here so I'd kill you?" Eduardo asks. He's soaking wet from the storm but his fingers have a tight grip on the headphone cords. Harvard had made it too easy, headphones attached to his ears as he focused on his laptop, completely obvious to Eduardo sneaking in. "Or so you could kill me?"

Harvard smiles, crooked and amused even with his air supply dwindling. His voice is rough as he attempts to speak, rethinking his reaction and shrugging halfway between oops and fuck you.

"How did you know?" His grip relaxes enough for the other man to speak.

"Tracked your IP," Harvard says. "Pretty simple stuff, you should let me set up a proxy for you."

"Who are you?"

"Mark Zuckerberg," he says. "Can we fuck now?"

***

They let the car sink as the rain beats down onto their shoulders.

"What was in the trunk?" Eduardo asks.

Mark shrugs again, watching as the taillights disappear. "I have something better to show you."

***

He looks over Mark's shoulder, one hand on the boy's bony shoulder blade and the other holding a beer. They're both in pairs of Eduardo's sweats with their hair towel damp. "And they just tell you where they are, what they're doing and who they're with?"

"Yup," Mark says, an honest amount of pride at his creation. "I call it TheFacebook."

"That's brilliant."

"I know," Mark says. "It's going to be hunting ground."


End file.
